


Our Venn Diagram is One Circle

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: Big Kids, Look at Us Now [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Communication, Getting Together, Lack of Communication, M/M, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:32:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: Or maybe this is some sort of weird permutation of his pre-existing relationship with Soren. Maybe this is a “I love you like a brother” sort of…bro-bonding? Who knows? Not Callum!Ez says Callum has crazy eyes when he tells his little brother all of this. Admittedly, he should probably have waited until it wasn’t two am to Skype and info-dump all this on his baby bro, but scientific inquiry has no time limit! And that’s what this is going to have to be. A scientific analysis of one Soren Knightsbane and his relationship to one Callum Prince.





	Our Venn Diagram is One Circle

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK.
> 
> Thank you everyone who left kudos and comments on the first fic!
> 
> I loved this AU too much not to keep playing in this sandbox. 
> 
> PSA, Callum mentions possibly being asexual in this pic because this fic is totally self-indulgent and I want more ace characters in fiction! 
> 
> Totally unedited because it's late and I have to work tomorrow morning.
> 
> Mild warning, at one point Callum mentions being kissed by a stranger by accident at a party and not being comfortable with it. That's it, there's nothing graphic at all because that's not how I roll, but read with your own care in mind, please!

**Our Venn Diagram is One Circle**

            Callum can’t remember a time he didn’t know Soren. Which is a little terrifying. Who knows how much Soren has changed him, shaped and re-arranged him just by existing in his general vicinity for so long? Ezran says he’s being ridiculous worrying about this at all. Which shows what Ezran knows. Callum can worry about anything. He’s a world-class worrier. If worrying was a sport, he would be an Olympic medalist. And probably not picked last for kickball so much.

            (The one, glorious time he _didn’t_ get picked last for a team was when his and Soren’s gym classes were combined for one incredibly surreal afternoon in high school and Soren in a stroke of massive tactical stupidity picked _Callum_ first for his dodgeball team. Of course, they weren’t allowed to play dodgeball in public schools by that point – apparently too many noses has gotten broken in previous years. So they played a _completely and totally different, what are you talking about_ , game called Cone Ball where the goal was ostensibly to knock the other team’s soccer balls off the traffic cones they balanced atop on the other side of the gym. While hitting each other with projectile objects because all the rules of regular dodgeball still applied. Just. Y’know. With _cones_.)

            Callum digresses.

            The point is: Soren is so completey and utterly a part of his life, he has no idea what to do when Soren’s behavior changes in any way. He’s grown accustomed to Soren’s predictable unpredictability the same way people grow accustomed to the seasons and all attendant weather phenomenons. You didn’t know if you’d get snow or hail in the winter, but you sure weren’t getting green grass and balmy temperatures.

            But after Soren’s illness and the two days they spent sitting – laying – existing – fucking hell, CUDDLING on the couch watching Harry Potter movies, Callum has no idea where they stand with each other. At all. Are they dating? Are they some new, snuggly version of friends? Is that version of friends allowed to kiss? Is that version of friends allowed to kiss and hold hands and introduce each other as “my boyfriend…” while making awkward small talk with vague acquaintances? 

            Callum doesn’t know.

            Or maybe this is some sort of weird permutation of his pre-existing relationship with Soren. Maybe this is a “I love you like a brother” sort of…bro-bonding? Maybe Soren and Claudia do this stuff all the time. Who knows? Not Callum!  
            Ez says he has crazy eyes when he tells his little brother all of this. Admittedly, he should probably have waited until it wasn’t two am to Skype and info-dump all this on his baby bro, but scientific inquiry has no time limit! And that’s what this is going to have to be. A scientific analysis of one Soren Knightsbane and his relationship to one Callum Prince.

            Which is a little difficult, seeing as Callum has only taken one college science course and it was Bio 101 and he did his final project with Rayla and it was on bees and the presentation is was 85% Bee Movie jokes and 15% Actual Factual Information.

            They still got an A, though. Which shows how much their teacher a.) appreciates meme culture, b.) has given up on life, or c.) legitimately thought they tried their best.

            Callum hopes for a solid mix of options A and C.

            So he is spectacularly unprepared to conduct any kind of scientific observation of Soren’s behavior. Which does not mean he won’t attempt it. It just means he won’t be surprised if he manages to somehow fail spectacularly and humiliate himself along the way. He has realistic expectations of this endeavor.

            So. Let the Soren-stalking commence.

…

**Observation One: Soren hates sharing food.**

            “I will stab you with my fork,” Soren warns as he shoos Rayla away from his French fries for the umpteenth time. Callum, meanwhile, is still staring at the chocolate milk Soren brought him completely unasked for.

            “Come on,” she rolls her eyes dramatically, “You shouldn’t even be eating those, aren’t you trying to lean out for the season?”

            “Which season?” Callum asks, sipping his chocolate milk.

            “All of them,” Soren shrugs and eat another fry, “Doesn’t mean I won’t stab you with a fork if you touch my fries.”

            “Do you need a Snickers, Soren?” Claudia teases as she descends like a goth goddess. If goth goddesses carried blue plastic lunch trays.

            “No, I need Rayla to stop making grabby hands at my fries,” Soren grumps, flicking water from his glass at Rayla, “Back, back from whence you came!”

            “I didn’t realize you knew the word ‘whence’,” Claudia murmurs and Soren glowers at her.

            “Do you want some of my fries?” Callum offers, belatedly realizing he didn’t get fries today; he got tater tots. “I mean, tots? Do you want some? I mean, one fried potato is another fried po-tah-to…” he trails off chuckling awkwardly as Rayla stares at him like he grew a second head and Claudia’s eyes flick between him and Soren like she sees something unexpected but pleasing. Callum belatedly realizes that Soren’s arm is draped across the back of his chair like it’s no big deal and he suddenly can’t _stop_ being aware of it.

            You know. Being there. All muscular and warm. And there.

            “Did you want fries?” Soren asks, frowning at Callum’s plate, “Here, have some of mine.”

            “No, I mean – okay…” Callum trails off as Soren passes him a fistful of the coveted fries and Rayla lets out a squawk of protest.

            “Seriously, _he_ gets fries, but because you’re in a mood, Mr. Grumpypants, _I_ don’t get any???”

            “Yeah,” Soren shrugs, accepting Callum’s offered tater tots.

            Callum tries and fails to not feel warm from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

**Observation One, article a: Apparently he (Callum Prince) is an exception to the no-food-sharing rule.**

…

**Observation Two: Soren doesn’t get enough sleep.**

            “Are you okay?” Callum asks as they walk to class after lunch. Soren doesn’t always eat lunch on campus, but he always meets up with them on Tuesdays, when their class schedules all overlap perfectly to give them the exact same hour of free time for lunch.

            Soren shrugs, “Fine, yeah, I’m good, I’m cool, I’m sub-zero levels of cool. Because I’m so cold.” He grins a crooked smile and Callum frowns.

            “You snapped at Rayla. You never snap at Rayla.” Soren actually rarely snaps at anybody. He’s kind of a pushover, really. He used to tease Callum when they were little kids but that was all petty push-you-in-a-lake-oh-shit-you-can’t-swim-lemme-get-you-out-and-spend-the-rest-of-my-summer-teaching-you-instead-of-hanging-out-with-people-my-own-age (for purely hypothetical example) sort of teasing. He was always a jock, always popular, he couldn’t not be with his floppy blonde hair and his muscles and his name plastered all over the school trophy cabinet.  But he wasn’t the push-you-in-a-locker kind of jock. He was the ‘I bet you five bucks I can chug a whole Yoplait yogurt in thirty seconds and not puke’ kind of jock. He drove Claudia, Callum, and Ezran to school every day the minute he got his driver’s license.

            Callum wonders if maybe he’s been observing Soren longer than he thinks.

**Observation Zero: Soren has always been a marshmallow.**

            But right now Soren looks a little ragged around the edges.

            “You’re not still sick, are you?”

            Soren shakes his head, hair flopping wearily. “Nah, just tired. My econ class is kicking my ass.”

            Callum nods. Soren has been complaining about that class all semester. How the professor doesn’t believe in study guides because ‘why would I just _give_ you the answers to the test?’ so the class never knows what to study for. How the papers just get longer and harder and the subject matter is so boring Soren can’t keep his eyes open to do the reading.

            Privately Callum wonders if maybe doing so many sports while trying to do school full-time is finally catching up with Soren. It’s not like he’s got much room in his schedule for extra cram sessions considering all the practices he attends.

            “Do you want a study buddy?” Callum wants to shrivel up and _vanish._ Who says ‘buddy’ in a sentence, _ever_ anymore? Who says ‘study buddy’ as anything other than a bad euphemism for…other stuff?

            Soren doesn’t seem to notice, just throws an arm around Callum’s shoulders and presses his nose to Callum’s hair like he’d almost wanted to press a kiss to the top of his head but chickened out at the last minute. “You’re a good man, Callum Prince.”

            “Is that yes?” Callum asks, confused.

            “Don’t worry about me, okay?” Soren says, “I’m the invincible iron man! Nothing gets me down?” and he bounces away to flex cartoonishly just to make Callum laugh because he’s a _dork_.

**Observation Three: Soren doesn’t like asking for help.**

…

**Observation Four: Soren is generous with his time. Even when it’s a terrible idea.**

            Callum doesn’t see Soren much for the next few days and tries his best not to feel a little anxious about it. Because he still doesn’t know what their whatever-it-is even _is_ and he’d really like a straight answer on that one.

            And then he falls in The Hole again.

            Callum hates The Hole. It’s an eyesore, it’s stupid, it has no real artistic merit or message, it’s just stupid pretention for the sake of pretention and it’s A GODDAMN ROAD HAZARD, PLEASE DEAR GOD LET THE FACULTY FINALLY PUT A STOP TO THIS MADNESS. But the campus is weirdly infatuated with The Hole.  Probably because of how uniquely moronic it is. The Hole even has it’s own Twitter. It has more followers than Callum does. Admittedly, the only reason he has a Twitter is because Ezran made one dedicated to shit Callum says or does at two am while hopped up on caffeine and sugar, and one memorable time, magic mushrooms. Because Soren’s dad’s weird friend is a forager or something and brought some mushrooms around for dinner and oops, they were hallucinogenic. Viren didn’t even apologize, that ass. He just looked at Callum and said “Well, that will teach you to take seconds when others at the table might still be hungry.” Like _that_ was the life lesson to be learned here.

            Whatever. Callum’s stuck in The Hole again and it’s raining and he hates approximately _everything._

            The Hole is deeper than usual because apparently the artist was _inspired_ or something and half the art department is placing bets on if he’ll hit a water main or a sewage line. Callum’s money is on the sewage line because that seems like poetic justice, really, after all the trouble The Hole has caused the entire world with its existence.

            And as he has been trained to do by years of experience and yes, maybe, kind of co-dependency and a little devotion, Callum calls Soren.

            “Hey,” Soren answers immediately, “What’s up?”

            “I fell in The Hole again.” 

            “Seriously?” Soren actually sounds surprised, like he expected better of Callum. Or of The Hole. It’s hard to tell for sure. “I’ll be there in five, don’t move, are you hurt? You’d better not be hurt or – “

            “Or what, you’ll hurt me more?” Callum tries to joke.

            “Or I’ll fight that stupid hole!” Soren says with more passion than sense.

            “You can’t fight The Hole, Sor.”

            “Pretty sure I can. Claudia and Rayla will help. We’ll fight The Hole together, it’ll be epic.”

            And that’s enough to have Callum chuckling even as he blinks rainwater out of his eyes and contemplates how much mud has soaked through his jeans and crept into his shoes. “Claudia isn’t going to fight The Hole.”

            “No, she’ll take care of the artist. Rayla and me, we’re fighting The Hole.”

            That tips Callum over into straightforward snickering even as the rain intensifies and the mud gets, well, muddier.

            Soren appears over the edge, peering down at him. “You okay down there?” the phone is still pressed to his ear.

            “Yeah, you can hang up the phone now,” Callum smiles into the receiver.

            “Oh, yeah, sure.” Soren hangs up and waves to him like Callum might have missed him before.

            “You’re not wearing a coat,” Callum frowns up at him.

            “Oh, yeah, I was at a tutoring session. I kind of left my coat in the library. Claudia’ll grab it. Don’t worry about it!”

            “ _Soren_ ,” Callum sighs, exasperated, “Don’t skip your tutoring sessions just because I was dumb enough to fall in a hole _I’ve already fallen in before_!”

            “Blah blah, can’t hear you, hole-related-pun-here,” Soren says, like the immature _brat_ he is, even as he stretches out on the ground on his stomach and extends both hands down to Callum. “Grab on, I’ll support you while you walk up the side.”

            Callum eyes his hands with trepidation, then sees the position he’s in and makes a noise of protest, “Soren, your clothes,” he says stupidly.

            “Just grab my hands, it’s cold up here,” Soren says with an expression that’s half-frown, half-grin and all Soren.

            Callum sighs and takes his hands, grumbling all the way up the slippery slope.

            And then, when they’re both turned away from The Hole, catching their breath, a shout goes up behind them and they both hear the unmistakable _thump_ of someone new falling in The Goddamn Hole. As one they turn around to eye the freshman groaning at the bottom of the pit.

            “Is it just me, or has this thing gotten bigger?” the girl complains.

            Callum shrugs, “Like and elder god, it hungers for human sacrifice.”

            “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out,” Soren sighs like he’s completely _exhausted_ by everything to do with the rain, the mud, and The Hole, but he shoots Callum a grin anyway that warms him to the bone as they help the girl out of the muddy pit.

**Observation Four, addendum: Soren is just plain generous in weird ways.**

…

**Observation Five: Soren doesn’t think he’s smart.**

            Callum is skipping his ‘mandatory’ hall meeting to hide at Soren’s place off-campus and do his art history homework when it happens. Out of nowhere, a sudden clatter as Soren tosses a pencil across the room and drops his head to his table with a defeated thunk.

            Callum stares at him from across the room, wondering what he’s supposed to do next. Slowly, he eases off the couch to go over and stand at Soren’s shoulder.  “You okay?” he asks.

            Soren rolls his head over so his cheek rests on the table and one eye can peer up at Callum. “I didn’t want to go to college.”

            “Why?” Callum doesn’t remember this. He remembers Soren being a senior in high school and Callum being a runty underclassman upset that his best friend (other than Ez) was Definitely Totally 100% Going to Leave Him to head off to college at the end of the school year. Runty underclassmen can be selfish like that, he guesses.

            Soren sighs gustily. “I’m not smart. Not like you and Claudia. I wanted to get my personal training certification and work at a gym. That’s it. That’s my whole ‘dream’ or whatever. Maybe I’d get a degree later and coach somewhere. Or coach little league or something. The only reason I wanted to go to college was to play college sports. But it didn’t seem worth it just for that, you know? And I did all the research and I found the right course to take and planned it all out…and my dad said no. He wasn’t mean about it. He just…told me to consider my priorities and that I was going to college. And I just kind of felt dumb for thinking I’d do anything else, you know? So I play all these sports and I like all my Exercise and Health Science classes, for my major and stuff, but all these stupid core classes… I suck at them. I’m not smart. I know that. Claudia knows that. My dad knows that. You hear it in how he talks to Claudia and how he talks to me. He knows.” Soren sighs, a heavy, gusty, thing. “Just sucks, is all.”

            Callum doesn’t know what he’s doing until he does it. He wraps his arms around Soren and buries his face in the soft buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. “Stop it, you’re smart, Soren. You’re so smart. You know baseball is all about strategy, right? And you’re really amazing at it. I don’t know how to plan out that stuff, how to load the bases, who to put up to bat when, I don’t know that stuff. And you just…read people. Read situations. You act all oblivious but you know _me_ so much better than, fuck, even _I_ know me? I spend all my time making lists and thinking about all the ways things will go wrong and making all these contingency plans for things that will probably _never ever happen_ , and there you are, just doing stuff, confident it’ll work out because you have a gut feeling or you believe in your own ability to adapt, to just, make things okay in the end. And that’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

            Callum presses against Soren’s back like he can press some of the tempest of feelings swirling in a furious vortex in his chest into Soren’s skin.

            “I love you a lot, you know,” Callum hears himself muttering into Soren’s neck, insides going hot and cold and hot again as he realizes just what he’s admitted to but unable to take it back because it’s completely and utterly true.

            Soren turns in his arms until he’s looking up at him with puzzled eyes, like Callum is a riddle he needs to solve but doesn’t know the trick to. Both their eyes are wet. Soren reaches up and tugs Callum down until he’s half on Soren’s chair, half on Soren’s lap and their noses are a breath apart.

            “What kind of love are we talking about?” Soren asks into the barely-there space between them.

            “All the kinds?” Callum hedges.

            Soren snorts, “I hope not,” and closes the distance between them.

            Callum has only had three other kisses in his life. The first was in sixth grade during a game of spin-the-bottle and was barely more than a shy brush of lips before he was fleeing the game, face the color of a fire engine, to hide in the coat closet and draw on his pocket sketchpad and resist the urge to call his mother in tears because they were playing _kissing games_ and he didn’t know how to handle it.

            The second kiss was at a party when a incredibly intoxicated person grabbed him and kissed him, wet and sloppy, as he turned the corner, then pushed him away with an expression of surprised disgust when they realized Callum wasn’t who they thought he was.

            The third was freshman year when he and Rayla were talking about sexualities and Rayla said “I’m pretty sure I’m gay. Can I kiss your face to make sure?” and Callum said “Sure, I’m pretty sure I’m asexual, so it’ll be pretty boring.”

            And it was. Pretty boring. They laughed about it after and ordered a pizza. It was all very low-key.

            With Soren it isn’t boring and it isn’t gross and it isn’t scary. It’s…warm. It’s like coming home. It’s a little awkward because their angle is weird and their necks are tilted weird and they’re two mostly-grown men trying to fit on one kitchen chair rescued from Goodwill.  But it’s…it’s really good.

            And Callum tells him that as soon as they have space to breathe again. “That was really good. Favorite kiss ever.”

            “Do you rank your kisses?”

            “Well all the other ones kind of sucked, just in different ways.  Like, the one with Rayla was probably the best since she asked first, but…”

            Soren’s face darkens, “Who do I need to kill?” he asks, arms tightening around Callum.

            “No one! I just go mistaken for someone else and kissed at a party. It was dark and they backed off and stuff when they realized who I was.” Not a great self-esteem moment but he really didn’t want them to stick around so there was that. “And the first was during…spin-the-bottle…in sixth grade. And it was gross.”

            Soren kisses his temple. “And Rayla?”

            “She wanted to know if she was gay and I wanted to know if I was asexual.”

            Soren snorts, chuckling into Callum’s shoulder. “You two are weird.”

            “You’re weirder.”

            “I’m cool with you being asexual. You know; if you are.”

            Callum grins into Soren’s hair, “I’ll keep you posted on my journey of non-straight self-discovery.”

            “Thanks, nerd.”

            “Good to know squishy pet names won’t be a problem.”

            “Sorry, did you want me to call you - ?”

            “NOPE.”

            “Cool. Nerd it is.”

            Callum laughs, a gusty, drawn-out sound. “Whatever.”

            “You really think I’m smart?” Soren asks into the quiet.

            “Yeah. You really think you want me? Because I come with a strict no-returns policy and no warranty.”

            “Cool, I can work with that.”

**Observation Six: Soren is a good boyfriend.**

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Portugal' by WALK THE MOON and series title from 'Down in the Dumps' by the same band because I was listening to TALKING IS HARD while writing this. 
> 
> Please review, I read all your comments and treasure them!


End file.
